


Finding the Words

by Banana_daiquiri



Series: Temptations [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild sexual content (flashbacks), Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Telepathy, sharing-a-bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banana_daiquiri/pseuds/Banana_daiquiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been fighting heatedly, her shoulder is injured, the Doctor is furious, and they find themselves without a way to verbally communicate. Just another day at the office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding the Words

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of the Temptations series. Part 1 is "Proximity," and Part 2 is "A Friend in Need."

It was the biggest argument they'd ever had.

"If you think I can't handle myself then why bother travelling with me at all, Doctor?" Rose was absolutely furious, so much so that she almost felt she couldn't breathe.

The Doctor stopped in the act of stalking away from her and whirled on his heel to face her. Though it didn't cool her anger, she felt a momentary prickle of surprise and stopped in her tracks as well, trying not to stumble forward into him. His hair was disheveled and he was breathing hard, respiratory bypass seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment. "I was just asking myself the same thing," he said.

It was like he'd stabbed her in the chest. She'd asked the question, but his answer had been a little too close at hand. She wanted to ask him why he didn't just bring her home, then, but she knew that if she asked him in this moment, he just might. She floundered, still staring him down but uncertain what to say. To her horror she thought she felt the first stirrings of the urge to cry. And she _refused_ to cry--she was far too angry.

The Doctor turned again briskly, picking up his pace once more.

"Where the hell are you going?" Rose demanded.

"Back to the TARDIS."

"Without me?"

"You're completely incapable of doing anything I ask you to."

She stopped in her tracks, burning with rage. "I saw a way to potentially resolve the situation. Maybe your ego is just too big to handle that. How can the stupid little ape possibly figure anything out without a _Time Lord's_ help?"

He stopped again for a moment, not facing her. "First of all," he said calmly, "I am not _a_ Time Lord. I am _the_ Time Lord. The only one. I _do_ know what's best and you _will_ listen to me. Second, I told you that it was unacceptable for me to call you that. I apologized."

Rose barked a laugh, completely offended by how patronizing he was being. "So _you_ apologize, and all's forgiven, yeah? And what's the rest of that supposed to mean--I listen to you or you'll lock me in my room without dinner?"

He just turned and looked at her for a long moment, eyebrows raised in seriousness. "You think I'm kidding. I'm not." He gestured around at the alien terrain surrounding them. "To these people? You're a child. Your lifespan is laughable. You can't even comprehend the things they can and _would_ do to you, yet you think you're capable of fooling them without my assistance. You need _me_ to tell you what you're dealing with. And yet when I tell you, you don't listen. Now, you tell me what I'm supposed to do with that information."

She shook her head at him. "You mean my lifespan is laughable to _you._ Why can't you just say it? I'm never gonna be enough for you, and you're just looking for excuses to lessen my importance!"

The Doctor's eyes had widened. He looked frazzled and disgusted. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he spun on his heel and turned to continue speed-walking away.

Rose was stunned by her own boldness, but her anger and pride surged again all the same and she kept going. "I don't know what you need me for anyway if I've got nothing to contribute. I'd rather go back to my own world, my own time, where I can at least accomplish something for _me._ I run around and risk my _life_ for you and all you can say is you're disappointed in me. Keep that up and you're always gonna be alone, Doctor!"

Her words rang in both of their ears like a slap. He stopped again and she could see his shoulders heaving with his breath.

 _Oh, he was such a git._ In all of the universes, he was the git of all gits. He could win an award in gitting. Blue ribbon, first place! Somehow, without ever facing her, he still had her regretting sticking up for herself. How did he he even do that?!?!

He stayed where he was for a while, but never turned around. Eventually he shoved his hands in his pockets, lowered his head, and stalked off to the TARDIS at a slightly slower pace.

She remembered, in a flash, all the lesser fights they'd had that had ended just like this--stinging words, him turning away. Those things never got resolved...they just let the anger peter out into silence and then they were flinging themselves into the next adventure with a silent agreement that neither would apologize and they'd just act like it never happened. It was always shortly "friends again, business as usual," and everything buried in laughter and jokes and flirtatious touches that never amounted to much.

And then there was last week. Against her will Rose remembered how he'd looked with his eyes squeezed shut, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sides of the stool he sat on.

But now...this was the ultimate "acting like it never happened." Going home. Being left there. Him...leaving. It had never been a question of if, only when. She had nightmares about it more often than she knew how to admit to herself. Last week she'd briefly wished, in her absolute regret and humiliation, that he would take her back. Now she would probably get exactly what she'd wished for.

Rose sighed and struck off after the Doctor, both of them ready to return to the TARDIS as quickly as possible in order to avoid each other while he presumably piloted them straight to Jackie's. 

They realized at the same moment that they'd let their guard drop during their argument, but by then they were already being surrounded and arrested.

***

On the floor, in their cell, Rose took a long moment to consider how this mission had started off.

They'd been on Ganza II using the Doctor's latest device, of which he was fairly proud. The way he'd explained it to her, he'd used some of the sonic's technology and re-purposed that into a more sophisticated tracking device for the particular life-form they were currently pursuing...a dolt by the name of Amra, to be exact. Amra was part of the Ganzanian black market--an integral part in one specific area: slave labor. The slaves of choice? Children. They were young and had long "careers" ahead of them, and they could be molded to suit their employer's needs. Highly desirable. The Doctor had vowed to put Amra and everyone working under her out of business and return the children to their parents, no matter how long that took. This was not a mission he'd taken on lightly, of course, not that he ever did. Well, except for that one time when their mission was to try as many variations on apricot jam as they could find in the neighboring solar system, but that was another story.

Anyway. They'd had to leave Ganza quickly to follow on Amra's heels. She'd led them here, to a place they now knew was Expar. Upon landing, however, a rather disconcerting expression had come over the Doctor's face.

"Doctor?" Rose asked, watching his face carefully as he read the monitor, alarm clearly written across his features. "What's wrong?"

He looked up, but not at her, apparently lost in thought and thinking quickly. "I don't know where we are," he said, almost to himself. He glanced at her, but hardly seemed to see her. "I've never been near here before."

A bit frightened at how uncertain he seemed (since the Doctor was rarely uncertain, or if he was he hid it well), Rose had followed him to the TARDIS doors and peeked over his shoulder as he looked out.

"Stay close to me," he said firmly. The shield he was making between her and the outside world was almost palpable. "I'm not familiar with this place, and I don't like that. Don't leave my sight. Got it?"

Rose had nodded and murmured, "Yeah."

Now, from her cell, Rose chewed her bottom lip. She hadn't listened...not at all.

They'd eventually come upon Amra's "lair," and Rose had thought she could see a back way in. Thinking she was being stealthy and helpful, she'd snuck away past the Doctor when he was otherwise occupied trying to figure out the lair's security system. She thought she could slip in and that they'd be done with this mission in no time and that he'd be proud of her for thinking on her feet like she always did....

Long story short, Rose had ended up with Amra holding an alien weapon against her head while also holding a remote detonation device meant to blow up the "stock," which was located off-site. The Doctor had engaged Amra in an intense verbal standoff for about forty-five minutes, finally agreeing to give up his sonic if Amra let Rose go...and as the Doctor raised it above his head in a sign of surrender, he'd quickly pressed a button. In a flash, a heavy light fixture crashed down onto Amra, glancing off Rose's right shoulder. It was a risky maneuver and could just as easily have resulted in Rose being seriously injured. 

The Doctor didn't mind putting someone out of commission when he had to, but he wasn't a fan of physical violence. Rose knew that.

The only advantage Rose had gained on using the back entrance was that she had spotted (and quickly memorized, thank goodness for her photographic memory) a dingy map laid out on a table she passed. She was presuming that the spot circled in yellow was where Amra kept her prisoners. The Doctor had taken in this evidence (okay...scant evidence) as she relayed it, his jaw tight and his shoulders stiff. That had been directly before he informed her that the security system had taken and transmitted her picture to Amra's organization upon her sneaky entry and that he couldn't continue on with her in tow now...far too dangerous. Then he'd tried escorting her back to the TARDIS to make sure she was secured there; he was going to regroup by himself with proper supplies before he went to scout the area in question.

Now they were enduring one of the strangest punishments they'd ever received: sensory deprivation. They were forced to change into white uniforms and locked together in a silent cell, nothing to touch, nothing to hear, nothing to smell. Everything was stark white. What was more, they'd been given water to drink...only to discover shortly afterward that it had been laced with something that had stolen their voices. They couldn't even speak to each other. Couldn't formulate a plan. Even the air seemed thick, buffered against sound.

The Doctor sat on the far side of the cell from her, refusing to look at her. His knees were bent, his arms crossed over the tops, his chin resting on one forearm. He had that "oncoming storm" glare working for him, eyes averted from hers.

As for Rose, her stomach was in knots. She was afraid. Afraid of their predicament, afraid of the fact that the Doctor did not seem, outwardly, to be making plans...although he must be, right? Doing more than stewing. The Doctor didn't stew. For long.

She was afraid of being brought home. If they made it out of here.

Would it really have been so difficult for her to just listen to him?

Rose reflected back on all the times she _hadn't_ listened to him. She specifically remembered the reapers and all the trouble that little adventure had brought. ...Maybe he'd forgotten all about that during his regeneration? The longer she went on thinking and the longer he went on not looking at her, the worse she felt.

After what seemed to be a couple of hours, Rose had backed herself into a corner. Like the Doctor she had hugged her legs to her chest and was resting her head on her knees, trying to brace herself for a very physically uncomfortable night. The sensory deprivation had started getting to her quite a while ago, and she had taken to alternating twirling her hair around her finger with digging her fingernails into the undersides of her arms just to feel something; anything.

She was facing away from the Doctor and couldn't hear him, so she startled when she finally felt something touch her. She sat up straight so quickly that she almost hit the Doctor's nose with her forehead. 

Her mouth fell open, but no sound emerged. 

They just looked at each other for a long moment, and she could almost sense him sigh. He still looked angry, but resigned. 

He scooted next to her, sitting with his back against the wall, and then reached over to pull her against him. Before she knew what was happening, she was pretty much sitting in his lap, and he was resting his forehead against her right temple. 

Her deprived senses were so heightened, hoping for something, anything, that his touch was almost unbearable. She wanted to clutch him, run her fingers through his hair, nuzzle her nose against his face, anything. Instead, she restrained herself as she became aware of a tingling, almost buzzing sensation in her mind. She was so thrown by the sensation that she barely noticed as he took her hand and raised it to press her fingers to his temple. She shook her head and tried to pull back, but the Doctor cupped her head quickly, fingers against her left temple, and again brought his forehead against the right side of hers. This time when she felt the sensation Rose let him in, fingertips settling against his temple as well.

_Sorry. You surprised me._

_It's all right._

A waiting quiet fell between them for a moment. 

_I won't go looking, all right?_ he thought. _Your thoughts are private. Just put a door or a wall in front of anything you don't want me to see._

_You'll do the same?_

_I don't need to. My defenses are better._

Made sense. He'd been a telepath for hundreds of years, after all. Superior biology, superior mental defenses.

For a while both were silent again.

_Are you still upset?_

_Yes,_ he thought. Then, _I'm sorry. Harder to censor here. I'm...trying not to be angry. All right?_

 _You're right to be,_ she thought miserably. _I'm sorry, Doctor. I really thought I could be useful._

She sensed a flurry of emotions from him--frustration, anger, and a strange component of desperation. It was confusing, being linked like this. Harder to hide nuances of thought. Note to self.

Finally, something definitive coalesced from the emotions she was sensing from him.

_If I didn't think you were useful to me, that you could think on your feet, you wouldn't be here. But I have a responsibility to look out for you the best I can, and I can't do that if you disappear without a word._

She said nothing, but was pretty sure he could feel her apology still radiating between them. As well as her own frustration.

_What you said about risking your life for me...it's true. But the way you risk it is unnecessary._

If Rose had ever heard a sentence that was swallowing its own tail, that was the one. And it had been a Freudian slip. She could actually feel the moment when he realized what he'd really just said; that kernel of honesty he hadn't meant to reveal.

They floated in this mutual awareness for a while, each uncomfortable for different reasons.

 _You saw what happened when we were fighting. We got emotional. We forgot where we were and it got us captured,_ he thought.

Rose quickly threw up a wall to consider this. What was he really saying? She could sense him on the other side of the wall, waiting patiently, not pressuring in the slightest to know what was going on in her mind. 

It seemed a non-sequitor, what he said next, but maybe it was to draw her out.

_You said I'd always end up alone. It's true in more ways than you know._

_I told you I'm never leavin' you._

She gasped when his resulting emotions flooded over her before he could stop them--fear, desperation, sadness, doubt. He couldn't hear her gasp but she knew he'd likely felt it. He would already know that her intentions were good, would believe that she wanted not to leave--but he didn't believe it was a promise she would be capable of keeping. She didn't need to hear his thoughts to know that. In fact, right now she could sense the wall he'd erected between them.

Then, after several moments,

_I'm sorry._

Rose sighed heavily and didn't respond, focusing instead on the way it felt to sit here with him like this: his forehead against hers, his cool fingertips resting lightly on her temple, his thighs under her bottom. She wondered if it was uncomfortable for him, if she was too heavy.

_You're light as a feather._

Rose blushed. She'd forgotten, for a moment, to censor herself.

 _Well,_ she thought, _You make a miserable chair. Don't think I'll be sitting on you again any time soon._

She meant for it to come across as humorous, but she couldn't help how quickly the subtle double entendre hit her, and she felt an overwhelming wave of mirth mixed with embarrassment emanating from him. She was certain he was reading the same from her.

Rose could see how this telepathy could take some getting used to. She quickly tried to get them onto any other topic.

_Did people on your planet do this often, Doctor?_

_No. Though we could_ sense _each other. Imagine having a constant presence in the back of your head...a warmth, a...._ She could sense him searching for the right words to describe it. Finally he gave up. _You're never alone._

She thought back to what he'd said earlier about always being alone.

 _Yes,_ he thought gently, in response to her ruminations.

It further occurred to her that, if that was what he'd grown up with, he must feel lonely all the time now. That--with as tactile as this new body of his was--this attempt by their captors to immerse them in sensory deprivation must amount to his own personal hell.

Quickly she tried to focus on the issue at hand rather than psychologically evaluate him, knowing that might freak him out. _So you could hear each other...but with me, you have to touch me in order to communicate. Because I'm human._

_Exactly._

Discomfort emanating from him.

She sent him a question mark, and felt the mental equivalent of him squirming in his seat. 

_It's nothing._

_No, what?_

A feeling of exasperation. _It's just that I was thinking it's odd, being linked with you like this._

_Why?_

_Well...my people could sense each other, like I said, but this...isn't exactly the same. It's a different level. They couldn't read someone this directly on a daily basis unless...._

Another mental question mark when he hesitated for too long. She could swear she felt him blush.

_Unless they were bonding. Or bonded._

_Oh?_ She knew it transmitted as a prompt for more information, though given his discomfort she was starting to think she might already understand.

 _Mates. Bonded the way mates were. This sort of connection, made in this way, could go deeper. I mean, we aren't...it's a similar feeling, a different process...._

_?_

He reluctantly elaborated. _During intercourse...if both parties consented...they could--_ She felt a strange sensation of run-together words, like a mumble, maybe something she wasn't meant to hear-- _(touch each other and) bond like this and make it permanent._

He seemed very uncomfortable about the touching bit. She knew he obviously didn't mean touching like they were now. It seemed he was literally incapable of even thinking about sex. She sent a soothing vibe to indicate that she thought the process was lovely. She was a bit embarrassed as well, to be honest, but she didn't want him to shut down.

She felt a resulting _Hmmm_ in acknowledgment to the soothing vibe.

_So did you ever...?_

_...Ever?_

He was afraid of what she was asking, stalling, though he knew what she meant.

There was a period of silence, and she sent a mental apology. _(None of my business)_

 _It's all right,_ he relented, but she again felt his reluctance. _We need some way to pass the time. Might as well share, right? Can't exactly stop touching. Well, we could, if you'd like. Be warned--if we stay like this, it could be your turn in the hot seat next._

She sent something that she hoped equated to a grin, but behind her wall she thought _Oh dear god don't get me thinking about sex with you right here in my mind, please please please_.

It was like telling someone not to think of a pink elephant. 

_Anyway, yes. I did. On Gallifrey...I had a wife._

She couldn't stop the surprise she felt, and she knew he felt it, too.

_It wasn't...like that. It was an arranged marriage. But when you're married, of course you bond. We...(had children)_

He'd mentioned this before, in passing, but she hadn't expected him to ever bring it up again. He always shut down. She knew it wasn't her place to know, but still she was hurt that he wouldn't let her in. So then he'd--well. She tried to cap the transmitted feelings at that before she ventured into dangerous territory. Too easy to let go without even realizing it.

With the way he responded next, she wasn't entirely certain which of her thoughts he'd just picked up on.

 _She didn't_ bear _my children, mind...it was different. The marriage was consummated...but Gallifreyans are (were) sterile. The children were loomed._

_?_

_It's complicated._

She felt his hesitation, his sadness, and knew he didn't want to continue. She rubbed her finger softly on his temple in what she hoped would be felt as an understanding and soothing gesture.

There was quiet for a while, until it became unbearable.

 _What about you, then?_ the Doctor asked. _Did you ever get married? Bond telepathically? Weave children?_

A ray of amusement traveled back and forth between them, a sort of laughter. It was very pleasant, and she was reminded of some of his best smiles. 

_Afraid there's no one I would have wanted to bond with._ She clipped the end of that thought off hard, hoping he didn't catch her _(until you)._

He was quiet for several beats, then asked, _You've never loved anyone?_

_I didn't think bonding had anything to do with love...just connecting. Communicating._

_Well, yes, you're right. It was only practical to be bonded to your mate, especially if there were offspring._

_There you go, then. Never practical for me to bond. Would come in handy for us, though,_ she thought, before she could stop herself, and wondered just how strongly he felt her mental hand clapping over her _mental_ mouth. 

_I mean,_ she added, _all the trouble we find ourselves in. Tight spots. I'm jeopardy-friendly--you're always telling me that. It'd be easier to navigate those sorts of situations._

She felt a strange blankness.

_Doctor?_

No response.

_I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about bonding, or your people, any of it. We can sever this--_

_No,_ he thought firmly. She felt a hint of desperation underlying the word.

 _Okay,_ she thought, unsure how to respond, what to do next.

_I mean, don't go.... Would it sound odd if I said that this is nice? That it feels like...something I've been missing without knowing just how much._

Rose frowned, wondering if she could balance her own emotions with his current need. The two things didn't match up. For him this was comfort and nostalgia...for her, it was starting to feel more like torture, being so close to him. And all this was a lot to digest. She didn't even know, before tonight, that Time Lords ever expressed physical interest in each other. She was still confused. Did they have sex recreationally, or just to bond? It didn't sound like he'd had any sort of feelings for his wife. These weren't questions she could imagine asking him. Far too personal.

She realized he was still waiting on her reply, so she gave it as honestly as she could. _Not odd at all, Doctor. I think it's sort of nice too. (You can't hide from me as well like this)_

She knew she hadn't cut that last part off quickly enough, and she sighed inwardly, wondering if he'd heard it, and if he'd pull away now.

There was nothing for a long moment, and then she felt a quiet affirmation. It was there, just a nudge, as though he'd scuffed his shoe against the floor.

Rose's hands were cramping and her arms hurt from holding them up for so long. Reluctantly she let him know.

 _Oh. Oh, of course. I'm sorry._ She felt him startle slightly, as though he'd just remembered something. _How's your shoulder?_

 _It's achy. I'll be fine, just need a hot bath._ Honestly she felt embarrassed about how she'd been injured, and she didn't want him even to think about it. Too late though. 

_I'm going to sever our connection for a moment; I need to look at it._

_Really, I'm fine._

_Stop._

She had no more to say to him about it, as he wasn't listening. He took his fingers from her temple and nudged her so she'd sit more upright. Once she had, he examined her sleeve closely, and frowned. Delicately he grasped the collar of her shirt and tore the shirt open carefully across her shoulder and then around so that the sleeve was removed. He cast his eyes up at her, his eyebrows going up, and shrugged as if to say "Well, it is what it is."

Rose just stared at him and mouthed, _"What the hell?"_

He smirked a little, but then just shook his head and focused on the exposed skin of her shoulder. He palpated it lightly and frowned when she jumped with pain. She had a very ugly bruise forming and had possibly torn some tendons; she didn't need him to tell her that. She'd had more injuries than she could count since coming on board the TARDIS, but this was the first time they'd had to go without the TARDIS infirmary with an injury this serious.

He turned his head to one side as if in thought, and wrapped his hands around her shoulder. He rubbed down her side, into her armpit, and she prayed she'd shaved well enough during her last shower; her razor was getting a bit dull. She winced inwardly at the thought of him pawing her stubbly underarm. Not that Time Lords probably cared about stuff like that.

In any case, that didn't seem to be on his mind. He ran his hand upward again, dangerously close to the side of her breast, and she held her breath and bit her bottom lip, trying not to shiver.

He wrapped his hands around her shoulder again, and she felt warmth permeating her skin. She quirked an eyebrow and looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled, removed his hands from her, huffed on his nails, and rubbed them on his shirt with false modesty.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned briefly, but then sobered and touched her shoulder lightly, questioningly. He stroked the skin there briefly with the tip of his thumb. Thrown off by the warm gesture, she studied his face as she rolled the shoulder carefully and nodded; the pain was gone. Then he pulled her back against him. She knew he was only doing it so they could communicate, but as she eased her body against his, her heart was thudding. He even pulled her in closer, his arm wrapping securely around her waist.

He brushed her temple again. _We should lie down. Might be easier on your shoulder; that way we can raise our arms to communicate without so much strain. Though if you need to stop, I understand. It's going to be very hard to pass the night in this place however, cut off as we are. No mental stimulation...it will get boring very fast._ Hesitantly, hopefully, _Maybe we could just do this until we sleep?_

She felt his self-consciousness bleeding through their connection. He didn't want to appear needy. This was definitely all very new to him; he wasn't used to being so vulnerable, and he didn't like being so around her. Again she considered how tactile he was these days, and reminded herself that he was an alien. Being in a sensory deprivation chamber would affect her negatively, as well--had started to before he'd made this connection--but she just might be able to tune it out and sleep. The Doctor, however, rarely slept. It was all going to be much different for him. He was away from the TARDIS, from his ship's constant presence in his head.

 _That's all I am,_ she thought behind her wall. _A mental stand-in for the TARDIS._ But if that was so, it didn't really fit with what he'd said about something "being missing." She felt a pang of sympathy for him and tried not to let her insecurities seep through as she answered him. _Yeah. We could do that._

They had to sever the connection to maneuver. Rose had an awkward moment of trying to decide what to do about the absence of a pillow until the Doctor offered his arm to her. She lay her head on it and found herself forehead-to-forehead and practically nose-to-nose with him. They each touched the other's temple again and he caught a wave of sadness from her before she could stop it.

_Rose?_

_I'm so sorry,_ she thought quietly. _About...._

She felt the tension run through him. Then, dismissive, _I know._

_I don't know how to apologize_

_\--don't need to--_

_yes, Doctor._

She felt him huff a defeated breath across her face, and unfortunately it only made her aware of how close to his lips she currently was.

She threw up her wall as the way he'd looked after she'd gone down on him came back to her: he'd been looking down at her with an expression she couldn't read, couldn't possibly name, but there seemed to be something apologetic in it, which, as she thought about it in retrospect, was ludicrous. He had cupped the sides of her face at some point toward the end of the act (hesitantly and almost unconsciously as he quietly gasped out his completion and oh wasn't _that_ a sound she'd love to hear again under much different circumstances), but there had been no tenderness exchanged then, and not after. Neither had seemed to know what to feel, how to take up the loose end that now dangled between them. So she'd just stared back at him with a warm flood of horror and humiliation and contrition blooming through her chest: contrition that had translated itself into a deep blush spreading across her cheeks and all the way down her chest. He said nothing; there was nothing to say.

Rose had scrambled to her feet and run to her room, not just shutting her door behind her once she got there, but locking it as well. She'd cried for hours, hadn't slept a wink. All she could do was replay it over and over again in her mind's eye.

He'd been so nervous, and in her need she hadn't been able to be patient or sensitive to him--her whole body was crying out for survival, and she had only been about taking what she needed to ease the pain; there was a whole-body ache caused by the aphrodisiac, and she could hardly think past it. She also found herself filled with disgust over what she perceived, in those few minutes, as him denying what he knew was between them. She was tired of him not facing up to it. The aphrodisiac had her convinced that her thoughts were true and that her anger was justified. It was a recipe for disaster.

So she'd cornered him there in the kitchen, on that stool, and every time she'd glanced up at his face his eyes had been squeezed shut, his breath coming in little pants as he tried to relax, tried to do what she needed. Eventually he'd been helpless under her warm ministrations; his breath had caught when she'd finally hardened him with her tongue, and she had pulled out all the stops, humming and performing every fancy maneuver she could think of.

And the way he tasted was...frankly...amazing. She hated that she could get aroused just from remembering it.

Now, in their cell, Rose's heart was thudding in her chest. She felt sick with guilt. Her stomach lurched as she mentally relived the experience, and she swallowed heavily. She'd been staring off over his shoulder as she thought, but her eyes fluttered shut out of reflex as she felt something warm on her face. She realized, with no small amount of shock, that the Doctor was licking her cheek, the tip of his tongue tracing a warm wet trail from the side of her lips all the way up to her eyelashes. He had just licked a tear off her cheek. She fumbled blindly for his temple.

_What the hell???_

She opened her eyes to see him simply beaming at her. He shook his head and pulled her to him again and nudged her nose with his. _Got you to smile._

 _That was disgusting, Doctor,_ she thought, but not without amusement. She acknowledged privately to herself that it had felt strangely nice. But then...his tongue had been on her skin, so that could never exactly be bad.

 _I know,_ he thought good-humoredly, _but I can hear you. Not your thoughts...but your anxiety._ His thoughts faded as he moved his fingertips from her temple and trailed them down her throat, causing her breath to freeze in her chest. He placed two fingertips gently between her breasts and tapped her gently there in time with her heart-rate, illustrating his point.

She obeyed his coaxing, breathing deeply for several long minutes before he once again touched her temple.

_What can I do to make it all right for you? Would it help to know that aphrodisiacs are as common out here as--to put it in Earth terms--poison ivy? This isn't my first time running across something like this._

Now _there_ was something she didn't want to consider.

Rose shifted and wiggled until she could see him. She tried to feel like she wasn't caressing his face as her fingers went to his temple again, but it did feel distinctly like a caress from her end. _I'm the one that needs to make this right. I shouldn't have asked you to do that._ She hoped he could read how sorry she was in her eyes. 

_Do you honestly believe I'd ever let any harm come to you? Or that I'd agree to do something I couldn't forgive you for?_ He stared at her, unblinking. 

She looked away briefly, then met his eyes again. _I also have to say...I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you, Doctor. It's just--I can handle myself._

_I know._

_I--sorry, what?_

_I know you can. I overreacted, Rose. It's my fault that we're here. If I had just let it go we would have been all right. You're--_

She felt momentarily overcome with emotion, and realized it was his: an odd mix of pride and frustration and exasperation. 

_...brilliant. As always._

She rode out the tidal wave of emotion, feeling conflicted, but she smiled softly at him, and could have sworn her heart stuttered as he returned it, the corners of his lips turning up, his eyes warming only inches from hers. 

_Thank you._

_Sleep._

She chewed her lip, a million thoughts racing through her mind as he watched her intently. 

Suddenly, without warning, he pulled her close and pressed his lips against her brow. She clung to him tightly, her eyes closed, and she felt his hand rub soothingly down her back. 

_Let's just deal with the problem at hand,_ he thought. _We're okay, you and me. I promise._

He pinned her legs down with one of his as though to put an end to any further argument, and cupped the back of her neck, resting his chin on top of her head. 

***

Neither of them slept much, or well, that night. But at least it gave them time to plan.

Once the plans were made, they tried to drift off, but to no avail. Every now and then Rose would feel the Doctor's fingertips brush her temple as he checked to see if she was still awake, or sent her a wave of reassurance, or asked her something mundane. Rose thought privately that as much as he'd never admit it, he was just enjoying the ability to be able to talk to another being this way.

By the time their cell door was opened by a guard, they were ready for their ambush. The Doctor came at the guard from one side, Rose from the other, and he used her as a conductor for his telepathic abilities. They restrained the guard and each touched a temple, blasting him with enough interference to put him out of commission for a good while. Then they high-tailed it out of there and found and released the children. There was no sign of Amra, but the Doctor poked his nose around enough to make certain he hadn't fatally injured her.

Then the two of them booked it back to the TARDIS.

***

Rose came up and leaned on the jump seat from behind. She watched the Doctor tinker under the console, twirling her hair around her finger. It was several minutes before he looked over at her, but she knew he'd known she was there the whole time.

"You all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but then hesitated. "Yeah. But Doctor...I think we need to talk. About things."

At least they _could_ now; the inability to speak verbally to each other had faded shortly after leaving the sensory deprivation cell.

He cast what she knew was a longing eye at the part he'd been working on, but set his tool aside and approached her. "All right. Kitchen for a cuppa?"

She nodded and took his arm. Once they'd reached the kitchen, he sat and let her make the tea. She knew he knew her well enough to tell when she was too antsy to sit down. 

Once she had the kettle going, Rose leaned against the counter and looked at him where he sat on the other side of the kitchen island. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Well?"

She nodded. Right. The Doctor wasn't good at talking. "I just think we need to t-talk...." she licked her lips and tried again, not even certain that she knew why she was so nervous. It was just so difficult to talk to the Doctor in such a direct manner about anything serious that wasn't directly related to surviving through the day. "...to talk about why we're fightin' so much lately. I think it needs to be addressed."

He leaned forward now, resting his chin on top of his fist and regarding her curiously. He said nothing, though.

"I'm human and...you're an alien."

He was nodding slowly, eyebrows raised.

"And that was always okay, 'til recently. What's changed?"

He furrowed his brow and sighed. "I don't know if I can answer that."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know the answer."

"No...theories?" She spread her hands wide, inviting him to throw it all out there.

"Well, aaahhhh...." he looked away from her and swallowed hard, lowering his chin and staring at the kettle as he muttered, "you don't listen to me? I don't know...."

She couldn't help but giggle and follow it up with a little snort.

He glanced at her, looking mildly relieved. "Not the reaction I was anticipating."

"You have to admit it's a little funny, Doctor." She bit her nail, grinning.

He smiled back. "Yeah, it is, isn't it."

"Really though." She dropped her hands and picked at her nails. 

They were both quiet for a minute, and the kettle began to whistle. Rose poured out their milk and tea and settled across from him at the island. 

"We're quite different, you and I," he said finally, leaving her surprised that he was the one who had picked the conversation back up. "We're alike in all the ways that matter, but our backgrounds are considerably different. Personally, I think it makes us a good team."

"Always has," she agreed. "But then there's been all this venom lately about how I'm too emotional. But Doctor, you never say how you feel about anything. 'S not healthy."

"I'm not human."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Her brow furrowed over her steaming tea cup, which she held in both hands in front of her face, elbows resting on the island. "What, you can't feel cause you're an alien?"

"You're an alien."

She sighed. "Okay, so we're both alien to each other. But you can't feel anything because you're a Time Lord?"

"I didn't say I don't feel. I just don't need to express it the way you do. I was trained differently. All that...it becomes distracting. 900 plus years of living...do you think I could really stand to let 900 years' worth of experience get to me like that? What do you think would happen if I did?"

She set her cup down. "So...so is it like, I dunno, a defense mechanism, then? Or do you just not feel those things anymore?"

He sighed softly. "It's sort of like the planet Altus II, right? This planet is situated in the worst neighborhood of its galaxy. High traffic zone. Asteroids, meteorites, space junk, you name it--this thing is constantly getting hit, like an unpopular kid getting pelted with spitballs from the back of a classroom."

Rose smiled.

"In other words, the makeup of this planet is always changing. New things are constantly being added to it. But for as _often_ as it's been hit it's barely shifted on its figure axis--just little wobbles--and as _hard_ as it's been hit its axis in space has never moved because the gravity of its surrounding moons and suns keeps it perfectly stable."

He looked at her excitedly to see if she was following, but she couldn't entirely keep the confusion off her face.

He smiled, a small, almost bashful smile, and he looked into his tea. He seemed to remember it was getting cold, and paused to sip it before going on. "This is all a very unsentimental way of saying that you keep me on my axis in space, Rose. You, and the other companions I've had. You remind me what I'm doing all this for when I can't see it myself anymore." He cast his glance back up at her. "Things hit me--they've affected me--but they don't change the essential man. The surface changes, sure...the things that have happened to me have changed me...but I've got a lot of forces stabilizing me. I have a function. I can't just stop...unless some outside force puts paid to what I've been doing all this time."

"An object in motion tends to stay in motion," Rose said, grinning.

"Unless acted upon by an unbalanced force," he finished, returning her smile. He sipped at his tea again.

Rose's smile faded. "But everything affects me."

The Doctor was gazing at her, but almost seemed to be seeing through her, or into her. "I envy you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you can afford to stop and feel the little things."

Before she could stop herself, Rose reached out and covered his hand with hers on top of the island. "And you can't? Ever?"

His hand turned palm-up and he stroked at her fingers briefly, but then cleared his throat and moved his hand down into his lap, away from her. "No. I can't."

Rose sipped her tea slowly, looking away from him to consider everything he'd just said. His reactions might be more human than he knew, she thought, if he was subconsciously lashing out at her humanity at times because, deep down, he was angry about what he felt he was missing out on.

When he got so angry at her, it made her feel so small. Less than human, even. But this did shed a new light on it. The weight of responsibility he felt; the loss he couldn't let himself feel. And why there could never be anything more between them.

That's what he was telling her, in his Doctorish way, wasn't it.


End file.
